


Ghost's Dawn

by Fer8girl



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cathar, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fer8girl/pseuds/Fer8girl
Summary: A young slave wakes to a horrifying situation. No family to protect her, she and several others are dragged from the pens to be used to feed their master's beasts. Now thrown into the arena, the odds of survival seem slim... unless she can harness the fledgling abilities she'd noticed developing within her.Gladiator days prelude for my Lord Dvasia, a Sith Inquisitor in the Star Wars: The Old Republic Universe.





	Ghost's Dawn

Whispers slithered through the slaves’ sleeping quarters, a panicked buzz that woke the small Cathar from her fitful sleep. “Hide them! Hide them!” The words hissed around her as she shook loose her disorientation. Frenzied hands grabbed other younglings, tucking them under blankets and robes. Suddenly there was booming against the doors, just before they gave way.

Guards burst into the room, looking humongous from where she sat on the floor and pointed at the scurrying bodies. “There!” one grunted.  

Two small twi’lek were snatched up - only five cycles old, just a bit younger than her - and she realized that the rumors were true. Since getting thrown in with this lot of slaves she’d heard about random pen raids where the smallest or weakest were carried off. No one was sure where they went but none ever came back.  

She frantically looked for a place to hide, anything or anyone who’d help her, but it was a lost cause. The others were busy concealing younglings that they’d birthed or adopted, with no family she was an easy target.

Grabbing her thin pallet she tried dashing to a corner but she made the mistake of looking up. Her eyes locked with those of one of the guards and she shrank away. “Don’t see me,” she whispered, putting all of her will behind the words. The trick had saved her before and seemed to work this time. His eyes went blank and he looked from side to side, appearing confused. She darted backward in a relieved rush, just before flying into the legs of a guard behind her.

His hand dug into the scruff on the back of her neck, raising her as she spat and hissed. A lashed-out claw narrowly missed his face but he just chuckled. “Filthy vermin,” he said, poking her in the ribs and she lashed out again, baring her fangs in a snarl.

“Vermin with bite, eh?” muttered another.

“Good, maybe it’ll last longer,” he replied.

Still held at arm’s length all she could do was dangle helplessly as he carried her out along with several other younglings. Behind them were muffled sobs while the remaining slaves huddled together, already mourning those they couldn’t hide. She tried swiping at the guard again, but he just gave her a hard shake. “Save your energy, you’ll need it,” he grumbled.

While they tromped through the dank tunnels she glanced at the others. There was maybe a dozen of them, a few still squirming while the rest had gone limp with resignation. All were like her, young, small... easily forgotten.

Taking one last chance she reached up to tear at the arm of the guard, this time her claws gashed deep into flesh. He dropped her with a surprised shout, cursing and grasping the injured limb while she rolled away, scrambling to her feet. Her actions spurred the other younglings, they started wiggling in their captors’ grips as she ran down the tunnel.

Fueled by adrenaline she sprinted down the hall, hoping to outrace the thudding feet behind her. She hadn’t made it far before a hulking body stepped from the gloom, blocking her path.

“Trying to wriggle off the hook little worm?”

The raspy voice sent chills up her spine and she stopped dead in her tracks, staring up at the wrinkled face. Thin braids fell from a knot atop his head, looking like tentacles, and a sneer twisted his leathery features. She glanced from side to side, searching for a new escape route, but before she could dash off a guard caught up and cuffed the side of her head. Reeling from the blow she felt warmth trickling down her face as he picked her up.

“Sorry Doran,” the injured guard muttered. “Damn thing snapp…” His words were cut off by a wheeze as the wrinkled man gut-punched him.

“I hate having to clean up after those I hire,” he intoned, then walked to where she was held aloft. Blinking warm wetness from her eyes, she glared at him while he chuckled ominously. “But at least I know who to wager on.”

He strode down the tunnel with the guards close behind while she was half-dragged along the stone floor. The brutal retaliation to her rebellion quieted the other younglings, they just whimpered until they reached a metal gate at the end of the hall. It creaked open and she lurched away, only to be chucked through with the others. They landed in heap but quickly sprang apart, some running to bang on the gate while she looked around.

So different than the pens it was like visiting another world. No ceiling, only more sky than she’d seen in her life, with red-orange streaks starting to chase off the night. Crisp air filled her lungs and she inhaled greedily, relishing oxygen untainted by the odor of unwashed bodies. The ground was hard-packed dirt, dusty but a welcome change over the clammy tunnels.

Curiosity had her wandering forward as dawn approached. More gates peppered the walls fencing in the area and there were bones littered about. There were deep gouges where they’d been gnawed on. By what? she wondered, and when a screech echoed across the area she had a feeling she was about to find out.

“Turn ‘em loose!” barked the wrinkled man.

In the waning darkness she could see the gates opening and tall, spindly beasts entering the arena. They were nothing like she could’ve imagined, even in her nightmares. With armored bodies and pointed insect-like legs, the creatures seemed barely tamed, swiping sharp limbs at the guards much like she had. Dawn light gleamed on bony crests and the multitude of teeth protruding from their upper jaws.

She swallowed hard, feeling rooted in place while the other younglings squealed in terror. The beasts’ heads swiveled towards the shrill noises and they charged. Behind her she heard pattering feet as the others scattered, but all she could do was hit the ground and repeat, “Don’t see me, don’t see me…”

Hunkered into a tight ball, she burrowed into the dirt as much as she could, glad that her pale fur matched the dust. A stampede of pointed limbs ran past and she curled tighter, praying they’d miss her. Her silent pleas became more fervent when screams echoed through the arena, followed by noises she didn’t want to define. She clamped her hands over her ears, rocking and murmuring to herself. It was only when she felt the thud of legs close to her face that she gradually opened her eyes, fearing the worst.

Warm breath puffed above her head prompting her to look up, and when her gaze traveled higher her eyes met the three of the creature looming over her. Smaller than the others, its crest not quite as large, it seemed curious. It tentatively jabbed at her with one leg then leaned down, opening its mouth.

 _‘NO!’_ she thought in panic and it stilled, drawing back as if it heard her. The three eyes blinked and she did too, just as surprised. When its face moved forward she tried it again, thinking, _‘No! Stay back!’_

Something clicked like tumblers in a lock, and she felt herself in the mind of the beast. It was a jumbled place, thoughts swirling like leaves in the wind. She fought to not get swept up in them, to focus the best she could. It was so hard, the beast was starving, its body wracked by hunger pains.

But hunger was something she was painfully familiar with, she’d been shoved from the food bins more times than she could count by larger slaves. She grasped onto the pain, drawing it into herself where she could bury it with her own. Once relieved of it the beast lowered its head and brushed its muzzle to her leg. Fine bristly hairs trembled against her fur and she giggled nervously at the tickle. Its eyes met hers again and when it tilted its head in anticipation inspiration struck.

She channeled the beast’s hunger back to it but a controlled portion, focusing it. In return she could feel its strength funneling into her, reinforcing their bond as she stood. There was a quiet buzz at the back of her brain, the creature making its presence known and she welcomed it. It crouched slightly and she sidled up one leg to perch on its back.

The rest of the creatures had decimated the younglings and a few guards were trying to wrangle them while others stared at her. Some looked wary, trying to figure out why she hadn’t been devoured. A frisson of anger shivered down her spine as she watched them, the creature’s feelings twisted into her own.

 _‘Food?’_ she thought, still getting the hang of the link they shared, and the creature keened excitedly. Concentrating as hard as she could she stared at the guard who’d pulled her from the slave pens. “There,” she said. “That’s food.”

It charged him with a ferocious cry while she clung to its neck, limbs speeding along the hard ground. Overcome by shock the rest just looked on in horror as the creature speared a leg through his torso then dragged him along the ground. Doubled satisfaction surged as it sunk long teeth into his throat, ripping free his windpipe with a crunch. Warm fluids coursed down its throat and as the beast’s hunger abated she felt almost like it was her own stomach being filled.

Another juicy bite tore into his leg, prime hunks of muscle dripping blood onto the ground. She became mesmerized by the spots of red, arcane constellations soaking into the dirt. The smell beckoned and she leaned forward, tempted to leave the safety of her perch.

 _‘That would be unwise.’_ A melodic voice rippled through her mind and she glanced up. The rest of the guards had regrouped, aiming whatever weapons they had at her and the beast. Most tried looking brave but she could smell their fear. A tall red-skinned woman stood in front of them, haughty but intrigued, and she knew that’s whose voice she had heard. _‘You’re safer there, little dis. At least for now.’_

The guards started circling them and she watched them carefully, letting the creature know their positions. One jabbed a pike at them and together they whirled, the creature knocking his feet out from under him with a stilt-like leg.

“Back off!” the woman warned and they seemed smart enough to listen. She walked towards the pair and the creature bowed its head, surprising the rider clinging to its neck.

“I raised this one and many like her. They’re called Acklay,” she explained as she reached up and stroked under its jaw. “Not many take to being ridden though.”

Golden eyes peered up at her and she felt like layers of her will were being stripped away. _‘Don’t see me,’_ she thought and the intrusion paused then pulled back.

“Interesting,” intoned the woman. Then she smiled slowly and whispered, “They’re afraid of you.”

The idea sent a shiver of pride through her, “Good.”

Her reaction seemed to please the woman. “But fear can make people do rash things, like attack at sudden movements. Stay still, stay quiet and you’ll leave here alive.”

“Promise?” she asked skeptically and the woman nodded.

“Yes.” The woman glanced back and stiffened, “But you have to trust me.”

Over the woman’s shoulder she could see a burst of movement, fury taking form as the Weequay she’d encountered barrelled through the guards.

“What in Am-Shak’s name is going on?” he bellowed, stopping at the guard’s corpse. He shook his head at the carnage and pinned the woman with his gaze. “Slaves, not guards Syble!”

“Atenuâ just got a little overzealous,” she stated. “I tried warning you about starving them.”

The Weequay huffed, looking exasperated until he saw the small Cathar atop the acklay. “And what is that thing doing up there?”

“It seems Atenuâ has found a friend,” said the woman, her voice softening like warm honey. “You know, you haven’t had a proper gladiator in quite a while. And don’t beast-riders do the best in the arenas? I could train them, rider and mount. Think of the credits.”

Even from her perch she could feel the coercion in the woman’s tones, swaying the Weequay’s thoughts. He looked doubtful at first but while the woman murmured coaxingly his expression relaxed.

“An acklay rider?” he mused, warming to the idea. “Unexpected, bold, I like it.” Tilting his head he looked at her again. “You’re the one I wagered on, aren’t you? In the mess no one could tell who’d lasted the longest. Guess I win!”

He laughed darkly and she shivered, noting his humor was more chilling than his anger. Tightening her grip she was relieved when he turned to the woman. “Fine, have it your way. Train them for the arenas.”

He strode off, the guards marching behind him, leaving her and the acklay with the woman. A shrill whistle summoned the other acklays near, a single noise accomplishing what a cadre of guards couldn’t.

“Now it’s safe, little dis.” The woman beckoned to her, “Come closer so that I may take a look at you.”

Sliding from the acklay she was still wary, ready to run. But where would she go? she wondered and she approached the woman. Long red fingers brushed dust from her mane then trailed over her scarred cheek. The woman clucked her tongue before crouching down to her level. “My name is Syble. What’s yours?”

She shrugged at the question and Syble’s eyes narrowed. “No clan, pride?” She shrugged again and Syble sighed. “Maybe better this way.”

“You have unique abilities, abilities I can help you hone,” she continued. “Have you used them before?”

She nodded and concentrated hard. “Don’t see me,” she muttered and watched a smile of delight dawn on Syble’s face.

“Very good. You’re quite a ghost," she murmured, and her smile widened as if inspired. “Dvasia, it means ‘ghost’ in my peoples’ language. Do you like it?”

“Dvasia.” Her tongue stumbled over the foreign syllables before catching them and making them hers. “Yes, I like it.”

“Then Dvasia you are, a living ghost. Now come,” Syble stood and offered her hand. “I will be your Akirsera, teach how to use those skills of yours.”

“No pens?” she asked, hopefully.

Syble chuckled, smoothing her fingers over the small furry hand she held. “No my little dis, you will stay with me. And I have much to teach you.”

Walking hand-in-hand with Syble, followed by acklays, Dvasia knew she’d be eager to learn.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations for the Sith used in the story...
> 
> Akirsera - 'mistress'  
> Atenuâ - 'stilts'  
> dis - 'cat'  
> Dvasia - 'ghost'


End file.
